Beast Mode

Nameless’s face contorted into an odd expression of confusion and wonder. How could this kid be his brother? His father had never mentioned another child to him. Yet there was something about the kid that looked familiar. Nameless’s eyes were the same glassy brown as his. Nameless’s heart began racing and he felt like everyone could hear it. “Nameless?” he said surprised that he could speak at all. The child before him nodded and buried his head back into his chest. “You say you’re my brother?” Nameless took Nameless by the shoulders and pushed him backwards a little to gage the kid’s reaction.

“Yes.” Nameless said clutching his brother’s arms with his hands, which were shaking a little from the excitement. “My mother. Her name is Ginger Prather. She’s your mother too. And my father. His name is David Fisher. He’s your dad too. Momma didn’t tell me about you. I guess Daddy didn’t tell you about me.”

Nameless’s mouth fell open whenever Nameless said the names of both of their parents. Could this kid actually be telling the truth? “What are you doing out here? Where is your mom?” Nameless couldn’t bear to bring himself to say that Ginger Prather had been his mother. Not after she did what she had done to his father. The man behind the counter entered again and seemed quite angry. He muttered something under his breath about a stolen mop and told the brothers that he would be going to another coffee shop, whose owner he “knew” took the allegedly stolen mop. Neither of the brothers tore their eyes away from each other. Nameless’s mouth quivered whenever he tried to speak.

“Don’t you know?” Nameless’s shuddering voice uttered, “Mom’s dead.” Nameless watched as Nameless’s expression did not change. He did, however, release Nameless’s shoulders. “I thought you knew. We called you and left you messages. She left me to you.” An odd feeling swept over Nameless whenever he realized that Nameless was all Nameless had in the world. Nameless and a hat full of cash and a saxophone.

“I don’t check my…” Nameless’s voice said trailing off. He hadn’t checked a single message since his father had died. He would simply erase all messages out of fear that it would be another mourner who would say how great of a man his father had been. It had been an irrational fear, but Nameless often found himself to be irrational. “Are you sure though?” Nameless nodded. “You’re my brother.” Nameless nodded again.

“I found a picture in Mom’s closet one day,” Nameless said after clearing his throat, “It was a picture of her and a little tiny baby. I thought it was of me and her, but when I turned it over it said ‘Ginger Prather and Nameless Fisher.’ I knew I had a brother then.” Nameless paused and Nameless closed his eyes as if he was trying to mentally see the photograph of which Nameless spoke. “Then when Mom…” Nameless couldn’t bring himself to say ‘died.’ “Her will said that I was going to go live with you in New York City.” Nameless didn’t speak and Nameless’s eyes filled with tears out of fear that Nameless didn’t believe his story.

“If you don’t believe me,” Nameless said, “I’ll prove it. When I was little, Mom and me came up here for a funeral and I didn’t realize it until a little while ago that it had been Daddy’s funeral. He died of cancer, right?” Nameless’s eyes forced themselves open and Nameless could see that he was holding back tears. “What’s wrong, Nameless?”

“I saw Mom that day.” Nameless said nearly inaudible. “I drove her away and told her that I didn’t want to see her. I blamed her for Dad’s death. She just wanted to tell me something.” Nameless looked to the young boy in front of him and a small smile graced his pale lips. “Now I know what it was.” He looked out the window at the rain falling and trickling down the side of the glass. The sun was setting and dotted where there were no dark grey rain clouds were a few clouds that were an odd mixture of pink and orange. The sun peaked out from behind a cloud for just a moment, before a rather ominous cloud covered it up. It was enormous and one of the darkest clouds he’d ever seen. Its color was nearly the same as the jet black cat that liked to hang around his apartment every now and then. Nameless couldn’t help shake the feeling that the cloud would never go away and he’d never see the sun again.

Nameless’s quiet voice brought Nameless out of his irrational fears. “If you don’t want me, I’ll understand.” Nameless said taking Nameless’s looking away from him as a bad sign. “All I ask is that you help me get back to Texas. I want to see my friends again. But I want to stay with you more.” Nameless said his eyes filling with tears. He wiped them away as Nameless turned to look at him.

Nameless hesitated for just a second, the severity of taking in a young boy (not to mention his long lost brother) finally sinking in. He then took Nameless in his arms and whispered in his ear, “Of course you can stay with me.” His hand went to the back of Nameless’s neck and massaged it gently. “Everything is going to be fine, little bro.”
Nameless was dead. Rain was falling hard as Nameless ran down the deserted street away from the coffee shop. Just when he thought that everything was going to be alright and he would finally have a family again, Nameless’s world fell apart. He wondered if witnessing his brother’s death would cause him to lose his memory again. He welcomed the amnesia. He wanted to forget everything. Sylar. His ability. The Company. Nameless. Everything. But he knew that life wouldn’t be fair to him. He had already been through too much. Now he would have to face his problems head-on.

The tear-stricken child made it to a main street with many people. Though he knew Sylar wouldn’t attack out in the open (he sure hoped he wouldn’t.), Nameless continued running as fast as he could. He had to get to Ian. Nameless knew that after their brush with the Company and Nameless’s death, Ian would run away with him. Nameless had to get them out of the city. It was no longer safe.

Out of breath from the attack, crying, and running, Nameless sNamelessd to a jog. He had to keep moving. A young couple stopped him and asked if he was lost. Nameless didn’t answer the couple and pushed passed them. He was lost. But not in the way they meant. Nameless didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know what he should do. His world was spinning. He was so dizzy. He just wanted to sleep.

He finally made it to Ian’s apartment and forced open the door, which banged against the wall loudly. Nameless’s jaw dropped when he saw the scene. Ian’s apartment, which had been his home for the past few days, was ransacked. “Ian? Sarah?” Nameless called as he ran passed the threshold of the door.

He ran through the living room, which was littered with ripped pages from all of the books which used to grace Ian’s shelf that stood upright instead of in shambles on the floor. The television was smashed and through the screen, electricity licked the sides of the broken glass every few seconds. The kitchen was just as bad, the refrigerator was barren of all foods and the door was hanging off its hinges. There were broken plates, cups, and bowls everywhere. Nameless dared not go check the back of Ian’s apartment. It was probably worse than the front.

“What happened here?” Nameless asked himself. He leaned against the wall of Ian’s kitchen and slid down, emotion finally taking over his adrenaline-filled body. His whole body convulsed as the tears came. He tried to shout, but he found that he couldn’t breathe. For a few seconds, he sat there trying to breathe as tears rolled down his white cheeks. Suddenly, air reached his lungs with a large gasp. He placed down on the floor, unable to cope with how he was feeling. He was so terrified of what was happening. He didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He was alone again.

He shivered. He couldn’t close his eyes no matter how much he wanted and needed to sleep. He was terrified that something else would happen to him. As the crying continued late into the night, Nameless began to dehydrate. He had been crying for hours now after running all over the city for the past two days. His mouth felt like cotton. This only terrified him more, but he managed to get himself to stand and drink graciously from the large leak that had sprung from Ian’s kitchen sink.

He wiped his mouth and inhaled deeply. His knees wobbled and he had to hold himself up on the counter to keep himself from falling. He looked outside the window. The sun’s first rays were peeking just over the other buildings and Nameless wondered what time it was. The sky was still dark and was a strange purple-green. Nameless turned from the window and looked to the door, which was still open like he had left it. Neither Ian nor Sarah had come during the night. He wondered where they were.

Something caught his ear for the first time. It was a small whirring sound which was familiar in the depths of the child’s young mind. His curiosity led him across the room and he came upon the record player, which oddly enough had survived whoever tore apart Ian’s apartment. His hands automatically reached out and moved the stylus onto the record. After a moment, the Beatles began to play, and Nameless heard the song “Yesterday” begin to play.


"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it seems as though there here to stay,
Oh I believe in Yesterday."


Nameless’s bottom lips quivered and he moved away from the record player as the song continued to play. His eyes touched upon the overturned book shelf. His mind was brought back to the night where Nameless had met Sarah and Ian. Ian had mentioned a book. What had it been? That night seemed so far away now.

Nameless searched his mind and eventually came up with a name: Suresh. He had to find Dr. Suresh’s book. He began moving books and pages around to find it. He got dangerously close to the television, but moved away when he realized how close he was. He picked up his hand and saw he had been sitting on it. He picked it up and looked at it. The book was navy blue and had a strange light blue design on it that Nameless swore he had seen before. The book’s name was Activating Evolution.

Somehow, getting his hands on the book and listening to the Beatles instilled within the child a desire to get away. He had hoped that Ian would have come during the night, but it seemed like he wasn’t coming. He looked out the door. He had to leave. But where was he going to go? Texas. He’d go back to Texas. There he would see his friends again and he could stay with them in The Hideout.

Nameless stopped the music and picked up the record along with the only other unbroken record, which was also by the Beatles. He put the book under his arm along with the two records and walked out the door. He was bound for Texas.
Nameless couldn’t believe what he was doing.

After leaving Ian’s apartment with the records and Dr. Suresh’s book, Nameless began walking along the highway. He would make it to Texas even if he had to walk there. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten his saxophone and his hat full of money in Ian’s apartment. He wasn’t turning back now.

A truck eventually stopped, a black 2005 Chevy Silverado with tinted windows to be exact. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal a young woman in the driver’s seat. “Hey honey, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” the woman reached toward the dash board and turned off the radio.

“I’m…” Nameless meek voice croaked. He adjusted the book under his arm. “I’m trying to go home.”

“Where is home?” The young woman asked him. “Did you run away or something?” Nameless nodded. It was much easier to say that he had run away rather than tell her what really happened to him. To her first question, he didn’t give an answer. It didn’t matter where he said home was. She would never drive him all the way to Texas. “Well I’m going to New Jersey. Is that where you’re from, buddy?” Nameless nodded. “Okay. Well get in and I’ll take you home. I’m sure your family is really worried about you.

Nameless scoffed when she mentioned his family. She had no idea.

“I’m Stephanie,” said the woman, after they had driven for a while. Driving sure interested the child. She looked over her shoulder and switched lanes. Nameless muttered, “You should have used your blinker.” Stephanie cast him a strange look.

“Oh dear,” Stephanie said. Nameless looked at her curiously and saw that they were low on fuel. Stephanie pulled into a gas station. “Honey, do you mind running in for me?” she asked as she pulled out her purse and handed him two twenties. Just tell the lady that you want forty on Pump Two. Nameless nodded, having not said anything more to the woman since he told her about using her blinker, and went into the gas station.

After paying the lady, Stephanie was pumping gas. Nameless got inside the truck and buckled his seat belt. Suddenly, Stephanie cursed. She opened the door and asked, “Did you tell the woman to put forty on here?” Nameless nodded. “Well she only gave us thirty. I’m going to go talk to her. Stay right here.” Stephanie shut the door and ran inside the gas station.

Nameless closed his eyes. How was he possibly getting to Texas? After a moment, his eyes forced themselves open. The keys were sitting in the cup holder. His breathing increased. He couldn’t possibly.

Nameless inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The truck sprang to life.

Nameless’s hand gripped the wheel of the truck. Driving sure was an interesting feeling. Of course, he was a much better driver than most of the people on the road, knowing everything about road etiquette and safe driving.

He had felt pretty bad about taking Stephanie’s truck and money, but he had to do it if he was going to get home. He laughed when he thought of the strange looks he had gotten when he had to pump the gas. He had told each and every gas station cashier that his mother was handicapped and he had to do it himself. Luckily for him, the tinted windows were dark enough that the people couldn’t see inside to confirm his story or see him as he drove along the interstate.

Nameless found himself in Louisiana. He was so close. Only one state to go. The truck dinged to let the child know he was low on gas. Nameless reached into Stephanie’s purse, which she had left in the vehicle after going to talk to the woman in the gas station. His heart dropped when he realized that he had used the last of the money to buy his last tank of gas.

Nameless took the nearest exit and the truck sputtered to a stop. “Great,” he said. “Now what?”
The rain pattered on the window frame. In the summer sunshine, it glinted as it slipped down the glass. The droplets traced lines as the fell under gravity's command. They etched a beautiful, tranquil image through which the dampened streets of Vienna could be seen. But the raindrops were not beautiful to Phillip Cormac. They were a cruel reminder, and the trails they left as the plummeted downwards were lines of anguish.

He sat facing the window, gazing out of it blankly. His hands moved of their own accord, his right pulling the bow back and forth, his left directing his fingers along the strings.

The sounds that resonated out from the wooden hollow of his cello were steeped in sorrow. This was not a time to play pizzicato, nor Eastern European folk dances, nor songs of love and joy. This was a time for mourning.

Phillip's face was expressionless, but his mind was hard at work. There was no music placed before him - this was a memory exercise. If he was to ever make the Philharmonic, he would need to be very proficient in such skills. He was more determined than ever to make that dream of his a reality. He not only owed it to Sal, but he owed it to Dominic too.

He'd never been described as an optimist. He was dour, serious, prone to seeing the downside of everything. But that didn't make him an emotionless stone. Within, he was a turmoil of passion and energy, but less than two weeks ago, that joy had been sapped from his veins. It was beginning to replenish but it would take a long time. A very long time.

The resonant baritone of his instrument echoed off the walls of his sparsely furnished apartment. These melodies, these harmonies. They were the only way he could say what needed to be said. He couldn't formulate the words, but this... this was his elegy. An elegy for a colleague. And elegy for a friend.

He sniffed and tried to focus on the pitch of his notes. On the eleventh of the month, everything seemed to have stopped. He hadn't expected it. How could anyone possibly expect something like that? To find your closest friend in a pool of their own blood, the bread knife still clasped loosely in their fingers - no one could possibly anticipate that. Not even if Dominic Høgh had been diagnosed with depression and suicidal tendencies could he have expected something so terrible. And Dom was not diagnosed.

Why then? Why had he taken his own life? Phillip had no idea, and the time he'd spent trying to answer those questions had yielded nothing. There was no answer. It was an unsolvable riddle. This was it: he would never know why his friend had taken his life, and it would haunt him forever. The question would trail him everywhere.

His hands were beginning to shake and so he ceased his playing. The sudden silence was unsettling. How could it have happened? Why? His brown eyes crinkled. Why, Dom, why?

His tears traced wrinkled lines of anguish down the body of the cello.
Phillip pulled his coat closer to his body, shivering. It was still summer, but the nights were cold, and even moreso when it rained. It seemed to have rained non-stop since Dominic's death. It was almost as if the sky was mourning with Phillip, letting its tears fall on earth. He hesitated, asking himself if this was the best course of action to take. But who else could he possibly talk to? His knuckles rapped on the doorframe. Once. Twice. He was beginning to think there was to be no answer when the hinges squeaked and a face greeted him.

"Phillip?" Sal Brideshead, his ex-wife, observed him with an undefinable blend of emotions. Pity, scorn, confusion. They were all there. Her long blonde hair was tousled - she'd clearly risen from bed to answer the door. Phillip suddenly felt the urge to turn and walk away without an explanation. But he needed... some consolation.

He scratched at his beard - it needed a trim, or just a plain shave - before answering. He answered in the simplest terms, and his voice was quiet and unassuming, but laden with sorrow. "Hi." Her eyes flicked from side to side, as if she were waiting for something to be added to the monosyllable. His eyes remained locked on her. He slouched, driving his hands into his pockets. It was both a practical action, for his fingers were turning purple, and one of awkwardness.

Sal's eyes drooped, and she spoke in German. They were both native English speakers, she from America, he from England, but after living so long in Austria, it was habit to speak the local tongue. "What are you doing here?" She squinted, her tiredness evident. Phillip stole gNamelesss up and down the hallway of her apartment block. He sniffed.

"I need to talk to you."

She slouched, and her voice grew the tone of exhaustion. "It's the middle of the night." She had become fed up with Phillip and his single-minded drive to make the Philharmonic, and his seeming lack of interest in their relationship, and his odd impulses such as these. That was why she'd filed for divorce. Phillip knew she wasn't happy to see him on her doorstep, and he knew that she didn't really want to see him at all. But the divorce had torn at his heart: he had loved her, he still did love her. Seven years on, he'd managed to dispel the infatuation, but something still lingered. He at least wanted to be able to say hello.

He blinked and turned his head away, as he often did when he didn't know how to explain something well. "I know, I know..." His voice sounded defeated. "But I need to talk to you." She raised her eyebrows to ask for further explanation. "You didn't mind talking at midnight when we were married." He attempted a smile, but it didn't succeed.

"That's because we were married."

Silence engulfed the hallway, and Phillip again took to glancing up and down the row of doors to other apartments. The fluorescent light was cold. He shifted his weight and mustered the courage to once again look her in the eye. "It's just... Dominic." Her brow furrowed, puzzled. "He... he..." He couldn't say the word. To say it was to make it fact, and Phillip didn't want it to be fact. It was Sal's growing impatience that convinced him to give it up. "He died. Last Tuesday."

Her eyes widened, and her delicate white hand traced up to her heart. She had only known Dominic briefly, but she knew that he was her ex-husband's closest friend. She remained silent. Phillip again gNamelessd away as he added, "I just need to talk to someone." A foetal half-smile in the corner of his mouth. It pleaded for company and consolation.

"I..." she began, but a movement from inside her apartment distracted her attention. Phillip craned to see inside, but her apartment was shrouded in the dark. No huge surprise, really. It was almost three in the morning. A dry tenor voice came out of the shadows, followed by a man wearing a singlet and a pair of boxer shorts.

"Sal, what is it?"

Phillip took a step back and gNamelessd at his shoes. He hunched his shoulders, as if boxing himself up might allow him to simply vanish from sight. If this wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was. He didn't need that sense of displacement piled on top of the tragedy that kept him awake. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't..." he mumbled, hands still in pockets.

Sal seemed to become torn, and offered a weak call after him. "Phil..." But the cellist had already turned, and was heading towards the elevator. She sighed, pained, and the door slid shut. Phillip's steps echoed in the corridor and he sniffed as he pulled his coat still tighter. He didn't want to have to face this alone.

He couldn't face this alone.
He sat with his face in his hands. His eyes stared down at the table from between his thin fingers. The tiny lines of text on the onion-skin paper were fading in and out of clarity, and he strained his eyes to see the words better. So do not fear, for I am with you. Phillip breather in deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He was feeling stronger now. Perhaps he was coming out of it.

Almost a month now. Almost a month since Dominic Høgh, trombonist and best friend, had taken his own life. The suicide had hit Phillip hard. He wasn't a man of many friends, and to lose his closest left him in a pool of isolation. He'd spent night after night walking circles in his apartment - or crossing town to his ex-wife's - trying to deal with the matter. To figure out how and why it had happened. But now, even though the image was still vivid in his mind, Phillip could feel that he was turning the corner. He was finding his strength yet again. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

He'd drawn strength from his faith - it was always there for him. To comfort him in his troubles and give him hope. This had been a great time of need, and Phillip was so grateful for the solace he could find in God. I will strengthen you and help you. He might not be the model Christian with the evangelical heart and unwavering passion, but he was intellectually sound in his beliefs and his love for God was always in his heart. He often asked why, then, he seemed to suffer so much. The divorce, the endless brick walls between him and his dreams, and now Dominic's death. But he found he could put them out of mind. Perhaps they were a necessary evil to strengthen him. Perhaps they would be instrumental in leading him to a purpose. Who knew? That was up to God.

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Phillip's eyes continued to scroll across the narrow column. The morning sunlight trickled in through the window and bathed him in a sensation of warmth. He just needed to move on. He wasn't alone in his trials. There was someone there, looking over him. And even if his best friend's death still loomed in his mind, it wasn't the end. He had to keep his chin up. He had to keep going.

He couldn't let them down. Not now. Not ever.
The list. There was something strange about the list.

Phillip pushed back, his dining chair scraping across the wooden floorboards. He stood quickly and hurried through his small apartment. His feet padded loudly on the floor, and were probably stirring the tenants downstairs from their sleep. It wasn't Phillip's fault that he awoke early. At least he'd given in to their complaint about his practice. Surely it couldn't be a bad thing to wake up to a solo cello every morning, but for some people, it was.

But it wasn't music that ran through Phillip's mind at this moment. It was the list. Dominic Høgh's list. The one he'd left in his suicide note. The list that had befuddled Phillip for days whilst he'd tried to come to terms with what had happened. He pushed open the door to his bedroom and, as though in a fervour, he rushed to his bedisde table and wrenched open the drawer. It fell with a clang to the floor, spilling his Bible, his paracetamol and his collection of blunt pencils to the corners of the room. He reached for the Bible and thumbed through it quickly. He knew the place.

Isaiah.

Nameless's hands ran over the pictures in the book, his eyes wide and staring. Nameless Smith was seven years old, and the sword of the stone was his most favorite book. Dragons, heroes, wizards. It had them all. Every night, before bed, Mommy would come upstairs and sit on his bed with him. He'd be tucked up in his pajamas, and she'd read his favorite parts, naming all the pictures for him and giving all the characters voices. Her voice was soft, gentle, and it always made him drift off to sleep.

Merlin was his most favorite character. That was because, like Merlin, Nameless could do magic. Ever since Daddy found out, he never talked to Nameless any more. Mommy and Daddy shouted at each other a lot now, and sometimes when Nameless went into the kitchen for a juice box, she would be crying into her apron, but would never admit it. Nameless's young eyes were fixated on the powerful looking image of Merlin. Magic helped people, it saved them and made the heroes stronger. Why was his magic making people unhappy?

He looked over at the flowerpot that was on the highest shelf in his room- a single flower growing out of the top of it. Nameless didn't know what kind of flower it was, but it was very pretty. It was Mommy's favorite kind, she had only planted it this morning. But Nameless's magic made it grow so quickly, it was now huge and pretty. Mommy hadn't seen it yet, but he would show her when she came to read her story. Nameless lifted a little hand and waved it in the air, two little daisies growing out of the flowerpot either side of Mommy's favorite. This would make her happy. Everything would be normal again.

Nameless shut his book and cuddled it close to his chest. She was taking a long time. He put the book down on his blankets and used both hands to pick up his glass of water, sipping it gently and looking around his room for something to do whilst he waited for her to come upstairs. He had left his crystals out on the floor. When everything was happy a long time ago, Daddy had driven them to the beach, and they visited a cave where they sold bags of crystals and gold. Daddy had said it wasn't real gold because it was for fools. Nameless flicked his hand again, and a small group of the crystals scattered across the floor. He was getting better at magic. He lifted his hand into the air slowly, his fingetips pointed towards the crystals. A shard of quartz, Namelesss favorite stone, rose into the air with it. As Nameless flicked his hand in mid air, it floated over to him and he plucked it from the invisible grasp of his magic, and put it down on his book.

"We've done enough talking! He's not going anywhere!" Mommy's voice shouted, echoing up the stairs. Mommy was probably fighting with Daddy again. Were they talking about him? Nameless climbed out of bed, carefully padding his feet on patches of carpet that were clear of toys and crystals. His arms crossed on the book, clutched tightly to his chest, and his quartz in one hand, Nameless opened the door and walked out onto the landing. The voices were clearer, but Mommy sounded so different. Her voice wasn't gentle and sleepy anymore, not like when she read to him.

"My son is seven, how could he possibly be a danger to anyone? He cried when he couldn't bring my rosebush back to life properly. Does that sound like a killer to you?" Mommy's voice cried. It was shaky, and it sounded like she was crying, like she was unhappy again.

"I'm sorry M'am, but this is for public safety. What he can do is not safe to leave out in the open. He needs to be properly trained in order to be rehabilitated into society."

"You aren't taking him anywhere. Where do you think he got his powers from?"

"M'am, are you telling us you also have an anomalistic ability?"

"If thats what you call it know, then yes. I have an 'anomalistic' whatever. I'm going to do everything in my power to stop you taking my son."

Placing his book on the floor of the landing, and putting his quartz into the pocket of his green pajamas, Nameless gently tiptoed down the stairs, until he reached the lower half that had a banister. He gently rested his head against the carved wooden supports, looking through to the argument that was happening. Daddy was there- but he was behind another man. This man was bald, he had thick glasses on and he spoke with a very rough voice. Daddy looked ashamed, shocked. He was in his work suit, and had a badge on that was very similar to that of the bald man. Mommy was crying, and she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, stopping them from going up. Nameless held both the bars tightly. Were they going to take him somewhere?

Daddy stepped forward and raised a hand at Mommy. He wasn't pointing, his hand was open and his palm facing towards her, but something strange started to happen. His hand started to glow, and then electricity was all over it- little arcs that were jumping all over his hand. Then he held one big spark in the center, and pointed it at Mommy.

"Please, honey, move." Daddy said, his voice was different and shaky like Mommy's. Was Daddy magic like him? This was great! Mommy liked Nameless's magic, and now that Daddy had some magic too it meant that they could be like they were before.

"How could you do this?" Mommy said, tears streaming down her face, wiping her blonde hair back behind her ears. "How could you rat us out like this? Break up you're family? Destroy everything we had spent all this time building?"

"Don't cry Mommy." Nameless whispered gently, and all three adults's heads snapped up in unison, staring at Nameless hiding behind the banister and staring through back at them. Daddy's hand snapped back to normal and he put it in his pocket, faking a smile up at Nameless, and the bald man did the Same.

"Come here, baby." Mommy said, wiping her tears on her sleeve and giving Nameless a short embrace before pushing him to hide behind her. He held onto her sweater tightly, burying his face in it and taking in the smell. It was the Same as it always was, a mixture of the perfume Daddy liked and the stuff Mommy washed the clothes in. Beside them, the potted houseplant's leaves were growing to incredible lengths, reaching the floor and piling up.

"Ma'am it may even be only a few months before he is properly trained. Children are fast learners." The bald man said through his teeth as he grinned down at Nameless, trying his best to be friendly but coming across as plain creepy. Daddy was silent.

Then, like a flash, the man was on the floor and was holding his nose. Blood was coming out of it, and he was making strange noises as he touched his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers. Mommy had moved faster than Nameless had ever seen anything move, she had just turned into a blur and then reappeared again a split second later. She must have magic too! Everything was going to be alright, and they could all live together magically. Just like in the book. Nameless clung to her again as she stepped back to him, and she put one hand behind her back to hold his. Daddy took both hands out of his pockets. They were making lightning again.

"Please, honey, this is the only way.."

"Only way for what? For them to take my seven year old son into that... that... company, train him to be a weapon, then spit him back out again? That isn't going to happen."

She became a blurr again, and managed to hit Daddy's arms just before he fired, so that they were off aim and the lightning arcs fired into a display cabinet, shattering the glass and spraying wood chips across the floor. Nameless ducked into a corner next to the plant. He watched as Daddy fought with her, she was holding his wrists, and then he hit her in the stomach. She keeled over, gasping for air, and Nameless ran out of his corner and started to kick and punch Daddy's thigh, tears streaming down his face.

"Stop it! Stop it Daddy you're hurting her!" He wailed, and he swung out an arm, not hurting him- Daddy would never hurt him- but pushing him down to the ground some feet away.

"One day, Nameless, You'll thank me for helping you like this." He said, and turned back to look at Mommy. But she wasn't there. With a gust of wind and a blur, she had hit him around the head with his signed bat that hung above the couch, and Daddy fell to the floor unconscious. Mommy looked over at the bald man. He had some kind of gun, and he was pointing it at Nameless.

"No!" Mommy screamed as it fired, and she became a blur again. She ran over to Nameless, and for the last time, she hugged him. For that split second, he was holding her. He could smell her beautiful smell, her hair was in his eyes, her warmth made him feel safe. For the last time, he held her. For that split second, their love was their strongest protection. She held his shoulders and smiled at him. Nameless wanted this to last forever. That one hug was better than any story she could ever speak.

Her eyes closed. "Mommy?" Nameless said, a hint of fear in his voice. She fell over onto her side. "MOMMY!" Nameless screamed, his voice shaky and petrified. A tranquilizer dart stuck out of her back, but Nameless had no idea what it was. She must be dead. That man had shot his mommy.

Tiny tears streamed down his young face, and the seven year old's face was full of hate and contempt.

"YOU KILLED HER" He screamed, half out of desperation and anguish and half out of deep hatred. He was crying so much he could hardly breath. Cracks started to shoot across the ceiling. The walls started to fracture, and the floor begain to shake. The man tried to load another tranquilizer into the gun, but a piece of rock from the wall flew towards the gun and knocked it out of his hands, pinning it against the opposite wall. Pieces of the ceiling were starting to fall, and dust was flying out of the cracks in the walls as they widened and multiplied.

"Look, Nameless, Stop. Calm down-" The man tried to explain. But Nameless wasn't listening. He was a seven year old boy. He hadn't loved anyone in the world nearly as much as he loved the two people laying unconscious on the floor behind him, and to him, it was entirely this man's fault. Pain, sorrow, anger and hate were all taking hold of Nameless's ability. Huge pieces of the wall started to fall down, parts caving in. A huge chunk of rock flew off the wall, and the sharpest edge flew into the man's head, his blood spattering out over the floor and his limp form falling to the ground.

Nameless crouched in place, holding his knees. His head was tearing in half, he had gone to far, he couldn't control his magic any longer. It had gone over the deep end. Nameless sobbed into the knees of his favorite pajamas as his house, his world, his memories, crashed down around him. The foundations became to weak- and the entire structure collapsed. Nameless screamed. He just wanted the hug back. He wanted to be hugging Mommy. He just wanted to be in his bed, his duvet gently holding him, and his Mommy's sweet and gentle voice reading him The Sword and the Stone.

His powers had protected him from being crushed. But the seven year old boy waited there in the pitch-black silence and darkness for hours and hours, waiting for his Mommy to pull a piece aside, cast light into the darkness, and hold him.

The tired and broken window panes of the worn down old warehouse just outside New York shook in their frames as the bass of the music inside grew stronger. Young men and women were approaching from all directions, some in groups, and some alone. People who were walking alone were wary- it was the dead of night, and it wasn't a good neighborhood. But those who were with friends were laughing, having a great time, exitedly waiting for the evening's unofficial dance competition. It was monthly, they called it B-Ware. Ironically named after it's warehouse location, it was the peak of the local underground dance scene. And inside, with a small group of friends and finesse for dance, was Namelessan Bellarosa.

"Nameless, girl, You wanna Drink?" Asked Geri, one of her closest friends. She was the one who got her most, understood her, because Geri's dad had been shot down in a drive by not very soon before Nameless's mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Nameless felt closer to her somehow for this reason. It made her feel like they had a connection.

"Oh Geri, I dunno. Its ten thirty already, my curfew was at nine. My dad's gonna crap a house, I'm already on probation after last week." Nameless complained. The week before, she had gone to a similar party at an abandoned factory, and got into a spur of the moment competition, ending up not leaving until the early hours of the morning. It turned out she didn't get much sleep that night at all, as her dad had waited up for her and had a few things to yell before Nameless could get to bed.

"To hell with that dude, girl." Geri said, snapping her fingers in the air. "He doesn't understand this talent you got. You leave now, we'll never survive the next round! You're here now, enjoy the thing. You can deal witch yo' dad later!"

Nameless laughed as she was dragged away by the wrist, clutching hold of her cap with her other hand as she was pulled through the crowds. Maybe Geri was right. Whilst she was here, she should just enjoy the party. After all, it did only happen once a month. Dad would be sore for a few days, but he'd get over it. He always did. In fact, the amount of times that Nameless had been easily convinced to stay out was getting stupid. But every time, he eventually caved in. Nameless didn't know why this was, but it might be that she reminded him of Mom. She hoped this wasn't true- she didn't want to be hurting him.

As they eventually reached the bar, Nameless frowned. This was a warehouse, why was there a bar? But as she got closer, she could see that it was far from a real one. It was slapped together with various pieces of wood, street art and graffiti sprayed all over it so that it fitted in. Were they had managed to get the warehouse's power turned back on, a few fridges and a cocktail mixer were all wired up behind the bartender, who was dressed no differently from anyone else here. The only was you could tell he wasn't just another kid was the way he was polishing glasses- trying to fit the part.

"Hey Nameless, a drink for me and dance royalty next to me, ok?" Geri called, waving one hand in the air to draw the bartenders attention and the other to point to Nameless. She blushed. Geri always did this, just because Nameless was pretty good at dancing.

"Hey Geri. You not going to introduce me?" The bartender said, who Nameless now knew was called Nameless. He pushed two plastic cups over the wooden surface and Nameless took it up straight away and started to drink from it. She really didn't like beer, but it meant she could avoid introducing herself and seeming big headed. He was kind of cute.

"Oh yea, Nameless, meet my girl Nameless. She's the one who's going to help me and Carla wipe the floor with all this trash," Geri boasted, flicking back her hair and shaking her hips to the music as a little display of what was to come. Carla was the third member of their little temporary dance group, but they were not as close to her as they were to each other, so she had gone to spend some time with some friends for a while.

"Is that so." Nameless answered, smirking and looking Nameless up and down. "I can't wait to see that. Hi Nameless."

He held out a hand to shake, and Nameless took it. He gripped pretty tightly, so she did the Same back. He grinned, and she did the Same. "Hey Nameless." She answered confidently.

They made idle conversation with Nameless for another half hour, and he seemed like a really genuine and funny guy. It was only on their way over to the centre of the warehouse that Geri pointed out he was already married, and had two little twin boys at home- he did the bar jobs here every month for some extra cash for himself. It didn't surprise Nameless that he was already settled down, he was a nice guy and any girl who knew what she had would latch onto him.

As they reached the centre of the warehouse, people were already starting to part and a rough empty circle was forming. People were still dancing, but there was tape on the floor that marked out a kind of arena- anyone who wasn't part of a group had to stand behind them. It was easy to notice how badly prepared they were- other groups had entirely matching outfits or the Same colour scheme. Some even had printed hoodies, their names and logos printed across their backs. Nameless, and Geri weren't wearing anything alike.

"Hey you two!" They heard a voice calling. Nameless spun on the spot and Geri did the Same. It was Carla, running toward them and tieing up her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She was carrying what looked like a huge red blanket screwed up into a ball.

"Hey Carla, How late you wanna be?" Nameless laughed, giving her a playful push into the shoulder. "What the hell is that?"

Carla grinned. "These are our new image, girls. Check."

She unballed and revealed three red hoodies, sleeveless, cropped short so that they only just came down over the ribs, and showed plenty of stomach and hip. They were nice- and now it was obvious that they were all dancing together. After pulling hers on around her shoulders and zipping it up at the front, she looked over each shoulder, trying to picture how she might look in it.

"Thanks Carla!" Nameless and Geri chorused, and they laughed together. Carla finished zipping hers up and pulled the hood up over her head.

"Yea don't forget me when you're famous. These things were thirty dollars each, but I'm gonna let that slide 'cause I like you." She laughed, and put an arm over each of their shoulders. "Lets kill it."

Carla had always been the weakest dancer, but she was great with style and graphic design. If they ever got this group serious, then she would definately be their image designer. She had already made them a poster and and edited together a video for them all, which were really great looking and features a lot of artistic effect. She was incredibly far from a bad dancer, at all, but she made her best contribution to the group with her other work.

As the registered troups were called out over the dj's microphone, they found out that they were third. That was good- they weren't last, so they wouldn't be after all the good people, but they weren't first, so they had a good chance to scout the competition. As they watched the first group walk on- all male, in white vests, and in baggy blue jeans and a black bandanna- they were in awe. They were world class dancers. They all moved perfectly in time, in the exact Same position, as if they were all on the Same puppet strings. Each movement was perfectly and seamlessly linked to the next, and they linked with the music so well that it made the hairs on the back of Nameless's neck stand on end.

Nameless looked to her left, and to her right, and noticed that Geri and Carla were both staring with their mouths open. Carla's hand rose to her mouth and she covered it over. They were nowhere near that good yet. Nameless wasn't big headed, but she knew she was easily close in a freestyle, but they just weren't that well choreographed in a group yet. They were just starting out, and these men had obviously been at it since they had first learned to walk. Carla was the first to speak.

"You two. I just don't think we can compete yet." She said, downtrodded and dissapointed. "Lets just go. We can compete in the next one. We need a lot more practice. We ain't never gonna get respect for our group if we bomb at something as big as this."

All three of them knew she was right. But they waited for the next display, and their fears only grew more. This group was small, just three like theirs, but they had two girls and a boy. The girls were in perfect sync, doing a variety of awe inspiring dances whilst the boy freestyled and performed alone inbetween them. Then when they all danced together, it got even worse. They were perfect- like they were the Same mind in three different bodies. Nameless looked away. If they were going to drop out, they would have to do it before they were due up or everyone would watch them leave.

"Lets just go." Nameless said, and started to push through the crowd.

"Nameless, no!" Geri said, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "You're world class, Nameless! You can do this without us if you wanted!"

"I'm not going to. We're in this together, I'm not going to do it alone."

"Nameless.."

"No." She said, putting her foot down. "Girls I'm leaving. I'm going home before my dad gets his baseball bat and comes out to find whoever has me."

It was easy to joke about, but it still hurt. They were probably right. If she just waited until the freestyle competition, she could win them the respect and the prize money. But they had come here together, and she wasn't leaving them to get glory for herself.

The friends walked out of the warehouse together, and danced and laughed home, stopping at each other's houses. Nameless's house was furthest away, so she was going to have to walk a short distance by herself, at- checking her watch- one in the morning. Four whole hours after curfew. She hoped to god that her dad wasn't still up, that for some wierd reason he had gone to bed before nine, trusting her to be in by that time.

As she got to the front lawn of her house, she looked up at her dad and Anna's room window. The light was off, which was a very good sign. She couldn't see the lounge from the front lawn, and that was were he would be waiting for her. She wasn't out of the woods yet. Reaching the regal and majestic front door, she took her keys out of her pocket and let herself in, slowly shutting the door with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying not to make a sound.

James woke with a start, as he rubbed his head. He must have bumped the window. He was still on the coach with Jake, but nobody else was. James stood up and left the sleeping Jake to check for a driver. Empty seat. James, frustrated, kicked the drivers seat and threw himself into a seat behind him. The driver would have meant well letting them sleep, but now they would have missed their job interviews. Some new life this was turning out to be.

James hadn't realised at first, but when he kicked the chair he had woken Jake. James pressed the button to open the coach door before he had to engage in conversation, and walked out to lean against the coach.
They were in some kind of warehouse, which he guessed must be the coach station because there were so many others. The smell of petrol was strong, as he walked around looking for an exit his footsteps echoed. He found one and started to walk back to the coach to his brother.
Jake opened the door and walked down into the Coach station. His brother was walking back to the coach and as he spoke his voice echoed like their footsteps.
'Stupid Coach driver, should have woken us up or something' he spat.
'Yea, there was a coach full of people, you'd have thought one of them would have tried to wake us' Jake remarked. 'Lets get our bags, I've just found out something much more important'
'What's That?
'Im hungry' Jake grinned, grabbing his bag and bolting for the exit, closely followed by James.

"Are yiou sure what you thought happend did happen?" A voice said, the calm, crips and nice voice. A Shrinks. "Yes, i'm sure of it, why don't you beleive me!" Nameless snapped, laying down on the sofa, which wasn't really a sofa made it all seem so stupid.

"The medication you're on can sometimes induce hallusinations, this might be one of them" The voice argued, but this wasn't an arguement, it was Nameless rgueing with himself. The man wouldn't admit to him being wrong, and the fact that his brother died through shock from electricity and Nameless survived. "It happend, a hallusination isn't real, but my brothers death is!".

Anger had, for a long time been bottled up in Dogulas, anger from the fact that he had an ability to channel electiricty through him, angry that his brother couldn't, angry that his brother died. "Why wont you understand, I'm not depressed anymore, just angry" Nameless said plainly, like the day he was allowed not to go to the Shrink, he was happy. But this, this was a new low.

"You get this impression, that i'm not ok, when I am, i'm prefectly fine. What will it take for you to understand!" Nameless shouted in rage. "You've been to the police station 6 times in a month for starting fights in clubs. Tried jumping off a bride 3 times, only to end up here. And you say you're ok." The shrink said, calm, but he was insulted. His eyes said it all.

"I'm leaving, and if, I swear to god. If you come after me again, I will kill you." Nameless said, standing up from the Chair-Sofa, thing. He took one last look at the place he had been sent to so many times over so many years, the books on science which eh had read when left alone here, the candle on the desk which he had set alight with his ability, the sofa he had scorched through at the bottum. "It'll be nice not seeing you." Nameless said coldly.

"Nameless, Wait." The shrink said, surprisingly, a hug was what Nameless didn't expect, but it was nice. "You'll do well, Just stay out of trouble." The shrink said, Holding Nameless in an embrace.
"Yeah yeah.." Nameless said, walking away. Never to look back at the hell hole that is, Richards Shrink Services Ltd.

Date: 3/5/1982


You clean that up now you Dirty scheming hoe! A voice shouted, Jessica's fathers voice. Jessica sat there, watching in the front room chair, watching her mum get kicked and punched all over spilling a cup of tea on the floor. Cries, moans. Hits. Was all that filled Jessica's ears. It should have been noises of balamory and big cook and little cook. But dreams don't come true that easily. Crying and wailing, hitting then crying. Crying. So much crying. But Jessica watched, taking note of every little thing what was happening.

For a long time it seemed that Jessica slept with her eyes open. Afraid of what could happen to her if she shut them, shut them to sleep. But this wasn't so. The happy-go-lucky girl that Jessica was, Aged 7. Was no more, ceased to exist. Wiped off the face of the earth. Gone. No more "Sweet Little Jess". No, No "Isn't she so cute when she smiled" No. None of that.

Date: 17/9/1992


18. Jessica's stomach ached, pained. Hurt. Why don't you give us a little.. show. the elderly man said, choking on the smoke from his cigar he blew it in her face. She turned away. Go on! Git' the man ordered. But Jessica was shut off. Not having any of the treatment she and her mother had been having for more then 10 years now. The man placed a hand on her leg. Jessica got up, from the old, rickety chair she was sat. "Touch me and I will hurt you" Jessica said, her eyes flashed with evil. The man moved his hand up her leg. Then. Bang. The man had Jessica pinned down. "Woo hoo we've got a feisty one here." The man said, with a fake cowboy accent.

Jessica struggled for air, normal, none-polluted air. The man's face lingered over hers. "Get off me! Help Help!" She shouted.
"No ones in remember, bingo" he laughed. Jessica was alone. Alone with this freak of a man. But no more. The man began ripping off her clothes. "No please!" Jessica begged. The man continued. "Now!" She shouted. The man didn't listen. The feeling of his flesh on her. Brought anger into Jessica. An Anger in which sh had never felt. Jessica laughed. "You honestly think this would work! Ha, you're more pathetic than your dying wife." she snapped. The man looked confused. This wasn't the Jessica 5 minutes ago

"Oh I'm sorry, how's the cancer?" sh laughed. Slapping the man's face he flinched but didn't move. Jessica hit a nerve. "You filthy whore!" the man insulted. But Jessica was away, away in her on world of thoughts. Focused thoughts. The man punched her arms. The arms which she was holding onto him with an iron grip. But Jessica didn't care. The anger flushed out of her. A smell of smoke, a smell of burning flesh.

The man shouted, in agony and in pain. Till one last breath and bang. A burst of flames, a shower of ash. The man was no-more. Combusted into nothing but mere ashes on the rug. Jessica laughed. Manically. There was nothing she could do un-do what she did. The anger was gone, the pain was gone. Jessica stood up. "I told you to get off me." she said plainly, to nothing but a collection of ashes.

"What happened? Where's burny?" An elderly woman asked. But no-one else was in the room. No-one else in the house. "Burny?" she shouted. No-reply. That's all Jessica could have heard from down the street. The dimly light banking off the cul-de-sac gave her the perfect cover.

Then she was Gone.

Nameless arose from his small apartment bed. Hungry for some cereal, even though he knew it was only 5am. The nightmares he had been having a lately lead him to keep waking up. However, every time he arose. He built up a ball of electricity in a palm, lighting the area with a blue tint. Even thought Nameless didn't know why. "Is it me?" he thought to himself, For some reason every time he walked into a dark room he wanted to bring up electricity.

"Cereal, Cereal, Joy oh! cereal..!" he sang. As he began eating his favorite UK Sugar puffs. Crunching away, in the dark Nameless dropped his bowl. Even though to any person it looked like he did it on purpose. But Nameless knew otherwise. "The nightmare." he mummed. Scarce in his tone. If you followed Nameless's eyes you would see the tall Dark Figure stood in the corner of the room. "This is just a dream." he thought to himself, Curiosity overwhelming him. Forgetting about the cereal Nameless willed his ability into action. However this time it worked over time. A bright, blue ball of electricity built up in Nameless's palm. "This is just a dream." he repeated.

The dark figure began to creep forward, no sound coming from each step he took. Nameless took small steps away. "Get back, I will hurt you." Nameless shouted, His voice firm. But the figure crept forward. Nameless released his grip. The beam of electricity landing at the figure until. Hit. Nameless held the beam of electricity, driven by fear and rage. But he couldn't keep it up for long. Nameless stopped the beam. Swaying side to side. Too much energy wasted.

There the figure lay, Smoke entering up Nameless's nose. But how would he explain this? He couldn't. And what if someone herd the beam hit the wall behind the man. What would he do? He couldn't run. "Out.. Of." The idea snapped in Nameless's head. Yet, he wouldn't understand how to. Flicking the light switch the room filled with light. But it was the switch, Nameless ripped away at the plastic. The wires exposed.

Thinking and various plans whipped through Nameless's head. "If i.." but before Nameless knew it, To a normal person they would have been shocked. But this was Nameless. The small bits of electricity dimmed the light. Nameless was happy, The blue energy surged through his body like a drug. But then stopped. Fully absorbed. A weird yet awkward smile crossed Nameless's lips.

Nameless – or Gabriel, as he was ‘reforming’ to be – walked down the wide, marble corridors of the Kirby Plaza facility of the self-empowering Company. He had been here twice before and neither had ended well. Not for him and especially not for the Company. Twice he had been stripped of his powers – first permanently and then temporarily – but both times the Company had lost valuable members of their ranks. On his last visit he had taken the brain – and thus the ability – of Bob Bishop, the forerunner of the Company and its main financer. How ironic it would be if he was next approached to supplement their dwindling funds. And if he was? Well, how could he refuse? After all, the better resources the Company had – the better the resources he had. Even with his rather limited security clearance, he was but an inch away from a handful of files that would give him access to everything he ever wanted and so so much more. In fact, behind the door to his left was a main archive. Cabinets full of nobodies who had been bagged, tagged and release to the wild to frolic in their natural environment; either unaware or afraid of the power at their finger tips. They wouldn’t have to worry for long – he would alleviate them of their burdens soon enough.

The next corner: the place where he had taken a magnificent ability from one of the Company foot soldiers. She had been able to find him amongst the chaos, sensing his presence and power through wielding her own. When he had cut her head open she screamed as though possessing all the voices of all the people she could feel. Oh the happy memories! Too bad things had went sour so soon afterwards. Peter The demon and a curious shape shifting blonde had tricked him, infecting him with the Warp virus and stripping away that magnificent power and all but one of the others. Following his recovery from the Warp virus – thanks to the ever helpful Claire Bennett and her blood of tricks – he had retained his acquired ability of telekinesis. Even with his innate ability of intuitive aptitude, it eluded him why he had retained that ability beyond the others. Still, it aided him greatly in his quest for reclaiming what he had lost. Cutting open heads with a tradition blade could be such hard work sometimes. Then, he had only done it once. Perhaps there was something in that?

A hard knock to his shoulder snapped him out of his inner thoughts. An agent of the Company – wearing the Same black suit and tie as he himself did – eyeballed him from over his shoulder as Nameless looked over his at the man. Apparently the man had gotten the reaction he wish, a satisfied grin twisted on his lips – he had gotten Nameless’s attention, that much was sure. What would follow might not be to the man’s approval.

“Got a problem?” The man asked roughly as he turned to face Nameless properly, squaring up to him. “I have a corridor of us that say you don’t.”

One of us. One of them. That was the Company motto, wasn’t it? Though Nameless could tell he wasn’t referring to the Same biblical ‘us’ at that particular slogan. Those of the Company, and those that aimed to bring it down, to watch it burn in flames while they reaped the spoils of the grand entity that was. Nameless might have been alone – his only ‘protection’ afford to him by Angela on an official basis – but if this man expected him to shy away, he was sorely mistaken.

“No problem at all.” Gabriel replied calmly, “Though I might suggest you have your eyes examined…” he added in a level voice as he cocked his head at the man.

Was he special? Did he have an ability? Was it worth ripping from his inadequate head in a corridor full of his friends and allies? The hunger within him lurched at the thought. It had been so long since had fed the Need within him. Corrine, the Welcome Home gift of his so-called mother, had gone a long way to satisfying the hunger that had built up through his incarceration, but it was far from enough to quench it entirely. If this man had something worth taking…